Destiny Awaits
by EnglishBrat
Summary: ***STORY ABANDONED***Harry is called back to the world of excitement after years of solitude with Hermione. What will he find? Anguish? Love? Lost memories? He alone controls destiny.
1. Prologue

  
  
  
  
Prologue  
  
  
  
Harry wrapped his arms around his knees and shivered. It seemed autumn was coming early this year. He watched the waves crash up against the rocks without really seeing them; listening, rather, to their soothing, rhythmical sound.   
  
  
The breeze picked up again and brushed aside his dark hair to reveal a lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Harry sighed heavily and reached up to feel it. That lightning bolt was him. To the others, at least. They never saw past that infamous scar that named him the one. The one who had finally killed Voldemort, Lord of the Dark, once and for all. How long ago was that? One year? Two? Time slipped by like grains of sand through an open fist to Harry.   
  
  
Where had all those carefree days gone? The days when the most exciting thing that happened to you was getting away with something, and the worst was getting punished. Things had changed.  
  
  
"Harry?" a musical voice inquired from behind. "Harry, what are you doing here? I was worried sick about you! Come now, you haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday; surely you want something to give you energy while you . . .stare . . . at . . .the waves . . ." she stopped, unsure of what to say next, and Harry gazed up at her.  
  
  
Hermione.  
  
  
So beautiful, to him. Others laughed at her frizzy hair or the way she always wanted to do everything at once or her delicate fragileness, but not Harry. He loved her for those things. And now, here she was, worrying as always, when there was absolutely nothing to worry about. For now. Soon, she would not miss him. Soon, she would find someone better for her than plain old Harry. He picked himself up slowly and followed her away from the cliff's edge, away from the ocean, to their home. Soon.  
  
  
  
  
Hermione watched her dear fiancé with a worried frown. Now what was the fool man up to? He hadn't eaten or slept, he had barely talked to anyone, and all he did was sit by the ocean, right on the edge of the cliff, almost as if he wanted to . . . fall off. Hermione shuddered at the thought and hurried Harry inside.   
  
  
There was truly something odd with the weather. It was only the middle of July, yet her breath fogged up in front of her in little tendrils of moisture and her ox-hide boots crunched in red and gold leaves scattered along the ground. She opened the heavy wooden door to their cottage and shooed Harry in.   
  
  
She looked around the room to make sure everything was in place - you could never tell when brigands might show up, these days - then set about lighting some candles.   
  
  
The room was a perfect square; fifteen measured steps brought you to the far wall from the door, then about seven to the left or seven to the right brought you to the two others. There were two large windows on the east wall, across from the door, so that the sun greeted them early each day. Between those two windows was a tiny bookcase that held a few books acquired over the years. On the northern wall was a bed, barely big enough for two, which Hermione smiled at sheepishly, thinking of improper things for a young woman to do. On the southern wall of the cabin was an old dusty chair, centuries old, most likely, in which Hermione had sat a good many times with her nose in a book, eager to learn more of the world. Finally, in the center of the room was a small stove place, by which a sturdy plank table stood. It wasn't much, but Hermione found it comforting to have such a homely place.  
  
  
She sat Harry down and placed a bowl of beans in front of him. He tilted his head up at her and watched. Watched. His eyes, a stormy gray, were hard yet compassionate.   
  
  
He studied her carefully, weighing her as he would two important decisions. The thought made her flinch, and Harry immediately turned away and stared hollowly at his bowl. Gingerly, he picked up a spoon and brought it to his mouth. Slowly, mouthful by mouthful, the bowl began to empty.  
  
  
His eyes never changed, though. They were always cold and hard, considering, contemplating. She almost could not remember when Harry was a simple boy who laughed at most anything. She did notice, however, that whenever those chilly eyes turned toward her, they . . . unthawed. Flashes of the warmth and happiness that Harry used to be full of darted into them. It made Hermione want to cry out in desperation to see that delight trying to flicker its way back into Harry's life, again and again, always without success.   
  
  
She reached out and ruffled his pitch-black hair and hid her fear and discouragement behind an all-too-fake mask of indifference.  
  
  
"Well, dear," she said cheerfully. Those eyes turned back on her and she gulped before proceeding. " I think it's about time for your nap, is it not? That cold wint . . .er, autumn air tends to tire the muscles quickly, wouldn't you say? Now you rest while I go get us some mussels for tonight, alright?"   
  
  
Without waiting for an answer, she gently pulled him up and led him towards the bed, then scuttled out of the room as quickly fast as she could. Once outside, she sighed deeply. It was a good thing Harry didn't realize that this was certainly no weather for mussels! She just needed to get away from the harshness of his presence. Light, what was she going to do?  
  
  
  
  
Harry lay down on the bed for a minute and chuckled quietly to himself. How dim-witted did the woman think he was? There was no way anyone could catch anything in this cold weather.   
  
  
His laughter faded as he thought about why she had truly left. He had seen fear in her. By now he knew Hermione like the back of his hand; her movements, her expressions, her way of talking and her ideas about things were all familiar to him. And right then she had seemed afraid. Afraid of what? Harry asked himself. Unfortunately, he knew all too well. Afraid of him. The way she talked to him, the way she treated him, like a child, was proof enough even without seeing that fearful light dancing in her eyes.   
  
  
Yes, he thought, laughing bitterly, I am too terrifying. She deserves someone better. Someone more caring than I. Light, but how it burned his soul to say that! Hermione was life itself, yet here he was, giving her away to someone else like a boy would pass down a worn-out shirt that had grown too small. It made him want to weep, but it almost seemed as though his eyes had forgotten how. I must be strong, he thought fervently, the world will perish if I am not!   
  
  
"I must be strong, do you hear me?!" he shouted at dusty chair. "No one shall stand in my path! No one!"  
  
  
He quickly trotted to where his boots laid and pulled them up roughly, grunting as his toe whammed up against the end of the boots, but he did not slow his pace. Thrusting his arms into the sleeves of his heavy winter coat, he barely took the time to shrug into it before grabbing his sword off the wall and opening the heavy wooden door with a quick jerk.  
  
  
Outside on the cliff, it had begun flurrying, of all things, and an icy wind rattled the remaining leaves on the thin bone-like trees. Paying it no mind - he could not do anything about the weather, not yet, anyway - Harry quickly paced the distanced around the house. By the time he had made his way back to the door, an odder site than snow in July greeted him.  
  
  
An old man with a long white beard that nearly touched the tip of his toes and a bright blue conical hat matching his silk robe gestured silently towards a doorway with a staff as old and gnarled as he. A doorway. That was the only thing that it could possibly be described by, yet it hardly looked like the thing that Harry had stepped through not so long ago.  
  
  
The huge frame of the thing, twice as tall as Harry and five time so wide, gleamed brightly with an unknown light. Thin silvery beads hung silently down the middle, each one distinctly carved with what seemed to be an unknown language. The doorway vibrated and shimmered as if trying to disappear, each bead changing its symbol with every minute movement. The thing seemed to come out of a dream.  
  
  
The wizard - Harry supposed the man could be called that - blinked and turned toward him. Loudly, clearly, he uttered the words that would change Harry's life forever.  
  
  
"It has begun."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
* Disclaimer: Hermione and Harry are properties of JK Rowling and her publishers. The expression "Light!" is property of Robert Jordan and his publishers  



	2. Chapter One

Chapter One  
  
Anika lounged on the edge of her elaborate water fountain, picking idly at the flowers from the cherry tree above her. She looked across the courtyard and sighed, then drew herself up gracefully and glided across the white marble dotted with flowers and bushes, her sheer silk skirts swishing quietly.   
  
  
Placing her milky hand on a golden sphere, she sighed softly and before tapping it once with a long silvery nail, producing one low ring that resonated all around her. Immediately, seemingly out of nowhere, a man sashayed toward her, seeming to slither along the floor.   
  
  
His dark coppery skin gleamed in the sunlight and his black eyes looked meekly at the ground. He flowed smoothly to one knee and bowed his head, spreading his arms wide as custom demanded.  
  
  
"How may I serve you, great mistress?" he asked humbly.   
  
  
"Janen," she said majestically, stroking the globe, "fetch me the orb, will you? The right one, this time. You know I do not tolerate failure."  
  
  
Janen flinched slightly before responding, "It shall be as you command, great mistress."   
  
  
Anika clapped her hands brusquely and Janen stood smoothly and bowed submissively. Anika looked at his back as he strode out of the room. Quite a nice catch, she mused to herself, but needs another lesson in obedience; he was much too proud for his own sake.   
  
  
She dismissed him from her mind with a slight wave of her hand and set on the task she must accomplish as soon as possible. What was she going to do with her newly aquired power? Well, she didn't have it yet, she admitted reluctantly, but she could consider it so.   
  
  
She looked over to the plate of grapes and popped one in her mouth. The world at her feet. Now that was something to look forward to. She could be powerful beyond imagination! Every one of them would bow to her and grovel for her mercy, hoping to be favored.   
  
  
Anika licked her lips in anticipation then almost immediately after tapped her nails on the tabletop impatiently; what was Janen doing? It could not take that long to fetch such a small object. As if summoned by the thought, Janen virtually waltzed into the room. Yes, he definitely needed a lesson in respect.   
  
  
Anika rose smoothly and looked expectantly at Janen, the impatience on her face on the brink of showing through while he stepped quickly toward her holding a bubble-shaped object covered in a pale yellow cloth. Anika found it hard not to salivate.   
  
  
Janen lowered the thing on the floor reverently, then stepped back and bowed his head. Anika could not stop a scowl on her face. The idiot didn't even have the sense to hand it to her? He needed to be taught a lesson.   
  
  
"Thank you, Janen. You may tell the master of servants to give you a whipping. Fifty lashes should do nicely. You may go now; I need no more from you."  
  
  
The fool actually had the nerve to scowl! At her! It was an effort to keep from kicking him right then and there. After he had left resignedly, she turned to the orb, rubbing her hands in anticipation.   
  
  
Snatching the cloth off, she filled her eyes with the truly wonderful sight. The golden, shining sphere lying on a pillow of silver had thousands and thousands of swirls of color inside, each representing an individual person in the world.  
  
  
Now all she needed was someone to work it.  
  
  
  
  
*Disclaimer: See end of prologue.  



	3. Chapter Two

Chapter 2  
  
Harry took a deep breath and a tentative step forward, towards the doorway that gleamed enticingly at him. The old man - the wizard - did nothing. By the look on his face, he could have been watching a bread maker knead dough, instead of the start of . . .   
  
  
Oh, come on, Harry thought to himself, I'm only putting this off. It's now or never. Indeed, the doorway vibrated more and occasionally shrunk, then sprung back to shape. Those little symbols flickered faster than ever and the thing shone so bright it was hard not to shield his eyes.   
  
  
He took another calming breath and this time leaped forward, shattering the silence with a quiet clinking of silver beads. As soon as his outstretched finger hit the first string of moon-colored droplets, time stopped.   
  
  
Harry looked around. Well, perhaps time only stopped for him, but the world certainly seemed to be going on. He saw the wizard nod contentedly and turn away to disappear in a shimmer of blue.   
  
  
He could make out every individual leaf on the ground and every snowflake's intricate pattern. He almost felt as though, if he squinted hard enough, he should be able to see the wind billowing by.   
  
  
He blinked.   
  
  
All of the sudden, the world lurched backwards and everything came together in a blur of colors that made Harry want to spew up every meal he had ever eaten. There came a sudden flash of light, and everything stopped. Harry kneeled on the ground, catching his breath, yet none of his clothes had so much as a rumple in them and his midnight hair was unruffled on his head. He peered up uncertainly and looked at his surroundings, hoping for some idea, some hint of where he was.   
  
  
Tall bluish-green mountains towered in the distance, their peaks clouded over. Dead sycamore trees were everywhere, looming above him ominously, almost threateningly. The ground was cracked dirt that raised small clouds of dust at the slightest step and it was littered with unrecognizable skeletons. The only other living thing that Harry could make out was a vulture, wheeling overhead in the dark, gray skies, its piercing cry echoing around the desolate place.   
  
  
Harry shuddered unwillingly. This was no place to start his . . . mission . . . of utmost importance. He thought of Hermione to comfort himself, and the whole place shifted. It was like spinning quickly and finding that everything had changed. The dead sycamore trees were replaced with flourishing ones, rising high in leave of green, occupied with hundreds of different creatures. The ground was soft, oh so soft, covered with green luscious grass that rose just up to one's ankle. Deer gamboled around him, peering curiously at the stranger that had come so suddenly. The sky, a beautiful bright blue dotted with billowing clouds, housed what seemed to be thousands of birds and butterflies soaring majestically through the air.   
  
  
Harry gaped in astonishment, then slowly began to realize what had happened. Deliberately, he thought of death. Death and destruction, and the place changed once more to what it had begun as. Again he thought of Hermione, and again the place shifted to the paradise.   
  
  
Harry chuckled to himself, wondering why he had not figured this out earlier. This strange land reflected him and his feelings, his emotions. He focused his mind firmly on Hermione and smiled as he saw several flowers bloom out of nowhere. This place truly did reflect his mood rather well. Purposefully, he stood up and looked around, hoping to find someone or something to help him figure out where to begin.  
  
  
This place was very much like a dream, yet totally different from anything he had ever imagined at the same time.   
  
  
Well, Harry thought, If this place is supposed to be a dream, then perhaps . . . perhaps I can control it in some way. He tucked Hermione away to some far corner of his mind and concentrated on what he needed.   
  
  
In his mind, he formed a picture of the wizard and the doorway. He pictured the wizard talking to him, gesturing with his tall staff. Harry opened his eyes hopefully, then slouched his shoulders in disappointment. Nothing had changed.   
  
  
Oh well, he thought dejectedly, I'll just have to go about this the old-fashioned way. He scanned the area once more, shading his eyes with a pale hand. There seemed to be nothing of interest - the same environment continued as far as he could see, framed on each side by a range of mountains. Those, surprisingly, had not changed even after the shift from happy to sad thoughts. Perhaps it meant something.   
  
  
Suddenly Harry gave a start, realizing that he had not moved from his spot since he had gotten to this strange place. He took a step forward and gasped.   
  
  
The world rushed by, similarly to the doorway but without the flash. He looked in front of him and his mouth fell open again. A small, crystal clear box held his thoughts.   
  
  
He could see a picture of Hermione, some porridge, a sword, a tear, and even a question mark. Even as he looked at the box, he could see thin wisps of what appeared to be clouds but of an odd pink color come out of him and flow into the box. Harry thought about this for a minute then smiled knowingly.   
  
  
He reached out with his hand and picked out the image of the wizard and the doorway, obviously still in the back of his mind, though it was rather faded. Immediately after he touched it, that blinding flash came and he popped out of the air in front of the bony man. The wizard smiled wryly, a thin curving of his lips, no more, and addressed himself to Harry.  
  
  
"It seems you have discovered one o the many secrets of this land. Excellent. You will need all the knowledge you can get. I take it you would like to know where to begin, yes? Well I can help you there. Since you are such a smart young man, you will have no difficulties at all solving this easy riddle:   
  
You need to find an ally.  
And an ally you.  
You will know him when you see him.  
For yourself, he will be, too.  
  
He carries not a weapon,  
But the greatest one is his.  
He knows no fear; it's not a word  
Yet terror, his life is.  
  
Do not search in the treetops  
Do not search on the ground.  
Do not search in the ocean.  
Search well, and he'll be found.  
  
  
"Be quick, boy. The world depends on it." He smiled his cold smile again, his dark eyes glittering. "Tootles!"  
  
  
And with that, again he shimmered away, leaving Harry to wonder at the words that he remembered.  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: See end of Prologue  
  



	4. Chapter Three

Chapter 3  
  
Hermione hitched up he skirts and started up the crude stairs carved in the cliff side. In her apron was an overflowing bouquet of every wildflower she had been able to find. She had decided on her long walk along the barren seaside what she had to do about Harry, the love of her life. Somehow, she had to make him see the joy of life. Once she was able to do that, they would be able to live happily again, away form this desolate place. She climbed the last step and blew a deep breath. Obviously she had not done this in a while. Only one time up and she was already out of breath? Hermione shook her head wearily and strode towards her home. The first thing she noticed about her humble domain was that the door was swung open. That was peculiar. When Harry slept, even in the odd state he was now, it was more soundly than ten thousand rocks. She ambled into the room and put the flowers down cautiously on their small table, a good third of them spilling over the side. She looked around the room. Nothing had changed. Nothing she could see, anyway. And yet . . . and yet the place felt . . . different. It was quite aggravating, really, that she could not pinpoint how. Hermione prided herself in knowing how things had changed. She took another long look at the place then sighed, shutting the door and slumping down wearily on Harry's bed.   
"OW!" she screamed instantly, then leapt up clutching her bottom. Of course she wanted the woolhead to get better, but this little prank was disgraceful! She brought her skirts around to where she could see them and carefully plucked the small shard of glass from the thick blue wool. Looking at it closely, she could almost make out . . . something. Another one of these things where you were so close in knowing what it was, yet it was still just out of reach. She grunted irritably and placed the small piece of glass - if that's what it was, which Hermione doubted - down on the table, where she had spread open a little spot for it among the flowers. Seeing the flora, she picked one up and sighed wistfully at it. She then brought it to her nose and took a deep whiff of the soothing smell. Strange, but her eyelids suddenly felt . . .heavier. Her vision turned grainy and it was as if every muscle in her body had decided to disappear. Her last thought before she fell into a deep slumber was, I hope Harry is all right . . .  
  
Hermione lifted her head up and looked at her surroundings in wonder. Where am I? She thought, scratching her head. Suddenly, there was a poof of white smoke and an old man with a grisly milk colored beard emerged with a broad grin on his face.   
"Hello Hermione!" he exclaimed in a jolly voice. "And welcome to the secret world of dreams! I'm here to inform you of an interesting turn of events! Your dear Harry has been sent on a secret quest that involves . . . er. . . well, it involves something, anyway. It wouldn't be fair to give it away, now, would it? Anyway, your job in this is to make sure you keep loving him! Because, you see, he sustains on the amount of love you have, so if you have too little, he just might die! That would not be too good, now would it?" At this point he stopped and scratched his beard and mumbled to himself. "Now, I didn't forget anything, did I? The quest, loving Harry, death, er . . . hmmmm."  
Hermione arched an eyebrow at him and pursed her lips. "Excuse me, mister whatever you are, but how am I supposed to keep up with Harry? I'll have a hard time loving him if I can't see him! Honestly, I can't do the impossible here!"  
The old man's eyes twinkled and he leaned in close to Hermione. "My, my, aren't you the bright one? That's what I had forgotten!"  
He reached a knobby hand into a hidden pocket in his robes and handed a small, sparrow-looking bird to her.  
"Here you go, dear. This bird will tell you all about Harry! You don't even have to take care of it; just set it on a branch and let it be! You're a bright girl; I'm sure you'll figure it out. Must be off! Tootles!"  
And with that, everything disappeared. Hermione stood up from her spot on the bed and plucked the glass shard off, flicking it away. She then took the little sparrow and set it on a branch of a nearby tree whose limbs grazed the window. She then sat down on her little stool and placed her chin in the palm of her hand, trying desperately to figure out what to do.  
  
  
Disclaimer: see prologue   



	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four  
  
Harry blinked in disbelief at where the wizard had just disappeared. He really did have a nasty habit of doing so right when you had a question.   
  
  
Well, At least now Harry knew where to begin. First he had to find this person by getting out of this place, then he would probably be told what to do.   
  
  
He thought about being on the edge of the mountains, then took a step forward and picked it out from the crystal box. It was a small satisfaction to him that he had picked up on this so quickly.   
  
  
Once at the edge of the mountains, he dusted himself off for no particular reason and examined them. He gasped as he reached out to touch them and realized that they were only a cunning illusion. He moved his hand, trying to find a reaction.  
  
  
Nothing happened. He tried again, this time more vigorously.  
  
  
Still nothing! Logically, there should be some reaction! Harry plunged his arm in up to his elbow and waited, half expecting some horrific creature to leap up and bite it off. When nothing happened, he decided that he would just have to take a risk. Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the illusion.   
  
~*~*~*  
  
Anika jumped and turned around, flashing knives. Her eyes darted across the empty room. Was she going mad?   
  
  
Sheathing the knives into hidden pockets, she tried to figure out what that noise had been. A huge crack, like cloth ripping, that had filled the room could not be insignificant.  
  
She glided over to where the orb was resting and touched it.   
  
"Aaaaaahh!" she shrieked, jerking her hand away in agony.  
  
  
~*~*~*  
  
Hermione looked at the sparrow, wondering what had caused its sudden outburst. The thing had started shivering, then it's head grew twice the size of its body, then shrunk again to the size of a fly. Now its eyes were doing the same.  
  
  
Hermione suddenly noticed something she hadn't before. Each time the eye nearest to her became big a bulgy, a shadowed figure could be seen leaping, over and over again.   
  
  
Aggravated at not being able to see it long enough to figure it out, Hermione grabbed the sparrow's neck and squeezed.  
  
  
The sparrow's eyes swelled and stayed still. Hermione brought her face up close and peered inside the eyeball. Now the figure was clear; it was Harry! She could see the look of determination and resignation on his face. That was the look he had worn so long ago, at the Triwizard Tournament.  
  
  
Hermione could not help squealing with pleasure. Finally the Harry she knew and loved was coming back to life! She could already see his personality seeping back into him.  
  
  
The sparrow let out an indignant squawk and Hermione turned her attention back to it. In her excitement, she had forgotten it even existed. She noticed that it had gotten a good deal redder. Did that have to do with Harry too? What did it mean? Was it a sign? When had it . . .  
  
  
Hermione felt her face flush and loosened her grip on the poor beast's neck. It squawked once more and ruffled it's feathers. Hermione didn't care, though. She had finally figured it out!  
  
  
~*~*~*  
  
A hooded figure cringed as the world seemed to tremble beneath him. Were the prophecies finally going to come true? He prayed not . . .  
  
  
~*~*~*  
  
  
Author's note: Confused? Good!! Now the story'll get interesting!   
  
Disclaimer: Harry, Hermione, and the Triwizard Tournament belong to J.K.R Anika and the old wizard dude belong to me!!!  
  
  



	6. Chapter Five

  
Note: I'm going to change the mood of the story a little. I realize that so far it's been very dramatic, as Iceamethyst has pointed out, so I'm trying to lighten it up a bit :)  
  
Chapter Five  
  
  
Harry put his hand as close to his face as he could get it and moved it. He couldn't see it at all. Where was he? Harry took a step forward, terrified he would soon end up in some sort of abyss. Holding his hands straight out in front of him, he closed his eyes (they were of no use to him anyway, and whatever this fog stuff was, it stung them) and started walking, taking each step slowly.   
  
  
After what seemed like ages, though it was only a short amount of time, he began talking to himself to break the insufferable silence. He knew how idiotic he sounded, ("Hello, my name is Harry! What's yours? Mine's Harry too! Well, what an incredible coincidence! What are you doing here? I'm just walking around aimlessly. Me too!") but it was the only thing he could think of doing while he walked around aimlessly.   
  
  
He tried to keep a straight path but was so disoriented that he thought he was going around in circles. Constantly groping with his hands, Harry noted that he hadn't hit a single object. For the millionth time, he asked himself, Where am I?  
  
  
Suddenly, he hit something. Well, his feet did. Tripping, he fell flat on his face.   
  
  
"By dose! By dose bust be brohked! Ahhhhhh!!" he screamed, writhing on the ground in agony.  
  
  
"Relax, fool. It's nothing a little mint can't fix, wot wot?"  
  
  
Astounded, Harry scrambled to his feet and put his hand in fists.  
  
  
"Who's there?" He cried out, faliling left and right. "You don't scare me! I'll shred you to smithereens! I'll beat you upside the head! I'll punch your nose out! I'll, I'll . . ."  
  
  
WHAP! Something hit Harry on the head and he crumpled to the ground.  
  
  
"Talkative bloke, wouldn't you say?"  
  
  
"Indeed, wot?"  
  
~*~*~*  
  
Hermione muttered to herself as she washed some clothes. What the wizard had said sounded like a bunch of rubbish to her, now. What difference could it make whether she "loved" Harry or not? He probably wouldn't even realize it!  
  
  
She continued grumbling about "foolish men" and "idiot boys" while she arranged the flowers on the table. She didn't care what stupid "quest" he was on, he had no right abandoning her like this! Men were so insensitive!  
  
  
Rubbing furiously at the table with a wet cloth, Hermione continued to work herself up about her imbecile of a fiancé. She wrung the out the cloth out the square window and looked at the bird contemptuously. Looking at it in the eye to find out about Harry. Ha! She could almost hear it snickering about how absurd that was.  
  
  
Hermione then quickly hefted the plates onto a tray with a clatter. She spun quickly on her heel, heading for the sink.  
  
She gasped.  
  
  
Plates crashed onto the ground.  
  
  
"RON!"   
  
~*~*~*  
  
A/N: Wooo, exciting, isn't it? Now al I have to do is figure out what happens next . . . :) Hope you're still enjoying it!!  
  
Disclaimer: Harry, Hermione, and Ron belong to JKR. The magical sparrow belongs to ME!! wooooo  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
